


No Voice Of Reason (Shatter Me)

by Sethrine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Helpful Castiel, Helpful Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Reader, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrine/pseuds/Sethrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They saved you, shattered the glass that separated you from them and set you free. In doing so, the Winchester brothers unknowingly set off the next phase of the curse you had been under.</p>
<p>The clock is ticking, and the race is on to find whoever -or whatever- had done this to you before things take a turn for the worse.</p>
<p>After all, a voice of reason can't give reason without a voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Display, A Mystical Lore

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> This work is inspired by the song Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling featuring Lzzy Hale. If you haven't heard it yet, I very much recommend it. It's such a beautiful and powerful song all at once, and very worthy of anything inspired by it.
> 
> Once again, my favor to Dean is showing...
> 
> Anyways, as always, I hope you guys enjoy!

People of varying ages crowded around the rectangular glass display case, marveling at the contents within, a Victorian woman with far-away eyes and a single hand delicately clutching at a heart-shaped locked about her neck. The display itself was fairly new, having been a part of the museum's collection for only a few weeks, and its popularity seemed to grow only stronger as the days passed. 

The story was a large part of the allure, as the brass plaque before the closed-off display went on about the young woman within who chose to pay the ultimate price for a mistake her beloved made by taking on a sourcerer's curse, a curse that immobilized her entire being. She would forever be frozen in time, always aware, but unable to move, to speak or breathe amonst the world's living ever again. 

The lore went on about a way to free her from her fate, though it would not come without a price. The sourcerer would release the curse, only if her beloved chose something of which he could take from the woman in return for the wrong her beloved had done. He could choose anything of physical, mental, or emotional state, such as her sight, her memory, even her state of fear, yet each choice had their drawbacks. 

In the end, her beloved had been so devastated by the prospect of hurting her further that he chose to end his own life in hopes that the sacrifice was great enough to free her. He would never know that she would remain, to this day, unmoving. 

Of course, the mystical story wasn't the only thing that drew in the crowd, though it did seem to inhance the experience of those who had already visited and passed along a good word to others. 

Some people claimed to have seen the woman within the glass display move her eyes, as if searching for her beloved in the distance. Others had even claimed to see her fingers flex ever-so-slightly over her locket, or her lightly painted lips twitch as if she were about to speak. Most would throw disclaim to such paranormal sites, as the woman within was nothing more than just a realistic wax figure, dressed beautifully in faux silks and positioned just so to create the image of a distant look, awaiting the day she would be set free from her curse. 

Oh, how wrong they were. 

 

You couldn't remember how long you had been stuck in that glass case, looking out at the crowds of people that passed by throughout the day. It was almost humiliating, in a way, as if you were being put out in the open like a trophy won in some sick game you didn't even know about, being marveled at by hundreds of people who didn't even know you were _real_. 

However this happened, you couldn't remember. There wasn't much to remember, it seemed, save for darkness, followed by the view you currently had each and every day for the last three or four weeks. 

At least the days were busy, with people everywhere looking at all the other displays, talking and laughing as if nothing in the world was out of place. The nights, you dreaded. Even with the night staff that went about cleaning the glass displays and the guards that paced the floors leisurely, the silence was a daunting, mocking reminder of your newfound imprisonment. The thought of no escape from your new life of utter stillness plagued you to no end. 

It didn't help that the staff had positioned you just so to where you saw each and every person who entered and left the museum, adding to the feeling of hopelessness deep within your chest. Sure, some noticed your very meager movements, such as the slightest motion of your lashes fluttering as you attempted to blink, or the way the folds in your patterned Victorian Era dress shifted the slightest bit with the tiniest movement of the hand placed at your side. Still, it wasn't enough to cause any doubts to your realism and only intensified the lore behind your pose as well as the multitude of people who came bustling in with hopes to see your tiny movements with their own eyes. 

Sooner than you realized, the crowd had thinned around the display you had been locked away in, as had the groups of people gazing at other displays here and there. The day wasn't yet over, meaning the early afternoon rush had finally relented to just stragglers and art students looking for a next piece to base their new projects on. The evening rush would start in roughly two hours, which meant more gaping stares and angry theorists arguing about what actually happened to the woman in the seemingly unrealistic story displayed on a pedestal before your glass casing. 

With your position, you couldn't help but notice the two men that made their appearance at the double door entrance, butterflies fluttering anxiously within your stomach at the sight of their familar faces. For the first time in weeks, hope rose within your chest as the two men glanced about themselves in a wide sweep as if searching for something. Then a pair of green-hazel eyes settled on your case, those very eyes widening at the sight of _you,_ and if you had the ability to breathe, you were sure your next breath would have stopped short at the realization in his gaze. 

_Dean...please...._

"Sam...Sam, it's her!" 

You watched as he rushed forward, though your eyes could only follow his trail through your peripheral. You were able to make out Sam's shocked expression before he followed his brother and pulled him back just before he could reach your glass imprisonment. 

From your right, you could just make out one of several security guards eyeing the duo suspiciously, though he made no move to interrupt them, as they had not passed the red ropes that wrapped around your display as far out as two feet to assure no finger smudges or accidental taps on the glass were caused. 

"Dean, no," you heard Sam's voice, distorted through your incasing, "not yet. We can't do anything right now." 

"She's right here, Sam! She's right here in front of us, and I'll be damned if I'm just gonna leave her here like some sort of dressed-up mannequin!" 

Dean was angry and upset; you could hear the way his voice cracked just the slightest, even as his anger peaked at not being able to do anything about your state of motionlessness. 

"Dean...remember what Cas said?" Sam reminded, looking up at you momentarily before he pulled his brother off to the side. 

There was a moment were the boys disappeared from your view, as did their voices, and in that moment, all you could comprehend was your anxious worry of what would happen now. They had found you; they had finally come to set you free from whatever had you bound and immobile. They wouldn't leave you...no, no, they would find a way to get you out of there. 

Even so, their sudden disappearance left you with a sinking feeling deep within. Your four-week stay as a trophy didn't even compare to your anxiety at that moment and the fear of not only being trapped forever, but also never seeing the brothers again. That was a fear you hadn't been aware of until you had been taken away, and it became more pronounced now that they had found you. 

Dean came back within your sight just as your worry began to form into full-on panic. He was just on your lower peripheral as he came as close to the glass as he could manage. 

"Tonight; I swear, (Y/N), we'll be back tonight. We're gonna get you out of here, we'll find the son-of-a-bitch who put you in there, and I'll make him pay." 

You tried so hard to let him know you understood, that you could hear him and see him and _knew_ he was going to set you free... 

 

Dean gazed at your motionless body, dressed in delicate fabrics and clutching at some sort of locket pressed dearly against your chest, for a moment longer before disappearing behind your display, following his brother with newfound determination. They had to find every possible exit in case things went south later on, as well as figure out the possible locations of the night guards. 

Once you were free, there would be hell to pay.


	2. Escape Is Not Fate's Design

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great news! Looks like things got situated, so I have my phone for another month! Hopefully the problem has resolved itself and won't come up again.
> 
> Also, thank you, THANK YOU, for the amazing feedback on the first chapter! I never expected for this idea to catch so much hype, and with only one chapter out, to boot! But I'm thrilled to bring out the next part to you guys. I hope you enjoy the story as it continues on.
> 
> Now, on with the next chapter!

The progress of night seemed much longer now that you were more aware of the time, at least more aware than you had been. You no longer cared about the people who came in and out of the museum as you once did before, longing to be like them, to come and go as you pleased. You would soon be leaving, and you would never look back, if you could help it. 

As the hours ticked by slowly, all you could think about was Dean's promise to you. You knew he would be back for you, with Sam by his side, ready to fight off anyone who would stand in their way. You were technically part of the family, after all, and it wasn't in their nature to leave family behind. 

So you would wait in your glass prison just a little bit longer. You would watch as the remaining visitors made their way out of the museum through the double-doors within your sight, until the janitors made their appearance and cleaned up the day's dirt and grime from the floors, the walls, each and every display. For a bit longer, you would wait for the night guards to make their last sweep for any stragglers who may have not realized the time. And when they locked the doors for the night, and the main lights were finally turned out, you would be ready. 

The Winchesters would be there to save you. 

 

Security was usually tight, as it was for most museums that held such valuable artifacts and priceless pieces of history. However, there weren't as many guards as Sam had originally thought there would be on the outside, especially for the size of the place, and the security system was oddly easy to surpass and deactivate. Everything seemed to be going good as far as break-ins went...perhaps a bit too good. 

It wasn't...natural for things to go completely their way. 

"Something's not right," Sam spoke just above a whisper as he followed Dean through the museum, both having entered through the back way so as not to be easily detected. So far, they hadn't run into any trouble, which began to get more suspicious the farther they went. 

"I know," Dean relented, fully aware of the fact that they had yet to run into any of the night shift guards, "but we gotta keep going. We've waited long enough; I'm not leaving here without her again." 

Sam gave an understanding nod of his head; he knew they wouldn't leave without you, not this time. Come Hell or high water, they'd be sure to have you back by their sides, ready to fight off whatever terrors came your way. 

Yet the closer they came to your glass imprisonment, the more the whole situation began to feel like a trap. Not once had the brothers seen anyone since entering the museum, nor did there seem to be a trace of the night shift anywhere. No footsteps, no echoing voices, no wandering lights from the careful sweep of a flashlight...it was as if the place was completely empty, save for the eerily lifelike exhibits and displays. 

Another long corridor and a wide span to the right had the Winchesters finally coming up behind your glass entrapment without a guard in sight. Dean was quick to come into your line of sight a few feet away from the red ropes as Sam made a careful sweep around the area for a way to get you out as safely and soundlessly as possible. 

"We're here, (Y/N); we're gonna get you out of this thing." 

He hoped to find some clue that you could hear him, that you at least knew it was him and Sam. Just like that afternoon, there was no movement, not even in your eyes. He would not admit that seeing you like this upset him to no end. 

"Hey, Dean, come here." 

Dean reluctantly made his way to Sam, who had just crossed the red ropes in order to gaze at the glass even closer. 

"Did you find a lock?" 

"No, the case looks like it was made without a door, which means we'll have to find a different way to get her out." 

"We don't have time to figure another way! I'm breaking the glass." 

"Wait, hold on! Just look at it for a second. It's got some sort of writing or something all over it. It's hard to make out, but if you get closer, you can-" 

"Damnit, I don't care!" Dean nearly shouted as the side of his fist connected with the hard surface of the case, the loud _thunk_ an unsatisfying conclusion to his quickly rising anger. 

Sam reached over and placed his hand on his brother's forearm in both a comforting manner and as a means to ensure he didn't shatter the glass. He knew it was frustrating for Dean, but certain precautions needed to be taken. 

"We're gonna get her out, Dean, but we don't know exactly what we're dealing with, here. If what Cas was saying is true, then whatever this writing is might be what's keeping (Y/N) frozen like a statue. If we break the glass without finding a way to reverse the effect, she could stay like that forever." 

"What if we break the glass and it fixes everything?" Dean questioned in a biting tone, though Sam was able to take it in stride. 

"But what if it doesn't? It's not worth the risk; you know that." 

Dean stared hard at his brother before taking a deep breath to calm himself. He knew he was being difficult, perhaps on the side of irrational, but it had been three months since he had last seen you, heard you, felt the softness of your skin. Three months without you had changed him, and not necessarily for the better. 

Green-hazel eyes looked up at your unmoving form almost forlornly. 

"I just want her out here with us," Dean said quietly, his fist relaxing until his palm was stretched out over the glass pane. "She's here, and it's...it's hard to see her like this." 

"We'll get her out, Dean. We'll figure out a way." 

Dean looked to Sam and gave a half-hearted smile for his brother's efforts at reassuring him. He didn't doubt Sam in the least bit; though it would take a little more time that the older Winchester was willing to take, they would get you out of that damnable exhibit. 

When he turned back to look over the glass as Sam had been doing prior to his mini freak-out, Dean suddenly pulled back from the display in equal parts amazement and worry. 

The writing Sam had pointed out, almost translucently thin and hard to distinguish, was suddenly becoming more visible. In fact, the point of visibility began just where Dean's hand had been resting against the glass and was spreading across the panes rapidly. 

"What did you do?" Sam asked, just as astonished and leery as his brother. 

"I just...all I did was touch the glass." 

They watched as the swirling text, now glowing a faint blue in color, continued to illuminate the glass until the case was completely covered. It then pulsed in a flash of silvery-blue light, then faded until you were once again visible from all four sides. 

The brothers looked on, expecting something else to happen. Maybe it was some sort of alarm set by whatever had put you in the display, and the guards were on their way to find whatever had disturbed the exhibit. Maybe it was a warning of sorts to stay back, lest they be put in the same position as you were in. Whatever the case, the brothers were on guard and waiting for an attack of sorts. 

It was then that you took a stuttering breath, and Dean's heart nearly broke through his chest. 

 

You were aware of the tingling feeling that began in your feet before you were able to see the faint blue illumination of swirled text cross over the glass encasing you. As the lighted words continued upward, so, too, did the tingling feeling in your limbs. It continued up into your legs, your stomach, up through your chest and neck and head, and all the way out to your fingertips. 

When the light faded away, you expected the strange feeling to disappear, as well. You were greatly surprised that it only intensified to the point of near discomfort. Then, when it was nearly unbearable, the most amazing thing happened; you were suddenly able to _breathe_. With that first stuttering breath came another, and another, and suddenly you were blinking and looking around you for the first time in weeks. 

You were able to flex your fingers and bend your arms; you were able to turn your head, to tilt it down and slightly to the left, and your eyes met those of Dean Winchester. 

"Dean?" 

His smile was nearly blinding as he pressed his hands against the glass, you kneeling down and mirroring the action almost instantly. You could nearly feel the warmth of his palms against your own, despite the glass separating you both. It was a glorious feeling. 

"Oh, baby, it's so good to hear your voice again. I was getting tired of Sammy's there for a while." 

You looked to Sam who was giving Dean one of _those_ faces, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you even as you were choking back tears. It was suddenly overwhelming, being in the position you were in. Everything that had happened to you had finally come to an end; your rescue duo was here to save you. 

"Hey now, none of that," Dean admonished lightly with a smile. You gave another stuttering laugh and wiped at the corners of your eyes. 

"I just thought...I thought you'd never find me, and I'd be stuck in this stupid display forever. But you're here, and I'm just...I just..." 

"I know, I know, sweetheart. Like you said, we're here. We'll get you out, just hold on." 

You nodded quickly, closing your eyes a moment to will back the rest of your tears, and nodded one more time just because you could. 

When Dean pulled away from the glass, it was with renewed purpose. He was shrugging off his leather jacket, and his plaid overshirt followed soon after. 

"Dean," Sam called out as a warning, and as the elder brother began wrapping his fist with his shirt, it dawned on you just what he was about to do. 

"There's nothing stopping me from getting her out, now. All that scribble doesn't mean a damn thing anymore." 

"Dean, wait-" 

"(Y/N), baby, I need you to face the other away, okay?" 

You gave a small nod and barely had your head turned and shielded by your arms when the first hit landed against the glass. You could hear the faint crackle as the fragile surface strained against the heavy attack. The second hit caused even more of a crackle, and you couldn't help but look back to see the thin webbing that marred the once clear surface. Strange as it was, you could even see the scrawl that had decorated the glass more clearly around the cracks. If you didn't know any better, you'd say they were almost silver in color... 

The third hit was brutal, and you had just enough time to duck your head low as the glass shattered all around you like a waterfall. In that final moment, you could swear you saw a flash of silvery light swirl about you before spiraling up and disappearing altogether. It was a familiar sight from a day you couldn't quite remember, and briefly you feared that you would become immobile once more. 

"Well, that definitely didn't go without notice," Sam commented offhandedly as he made to help you down from the exhibit. He was careful as he beckoned you closer and allowed you to use his shoulders to hop down from the pedestal. He kept you steady with his hands at your waistline and made sure to swing you away from the shattered glass that littered the floor. The instant you were on the ground, you wrapped your arms around the taller Winchester in a fierce hug that was quickly reciprocated. 

"Whoa, hey, it's alright," he soothed, aware of how you clutched at his coat as if your life depended on it. He looked to Dean for help as the older Winchester picked up his jacket and made his way over to you. When his hand made contact with your shoulder, you instantly released your hold on Sam and began clutching Dean instead. He was quick to wrap his arms around you, his lips pressing against your temple. 

"I got you, baby. I got you." 

You only clutched tighter to the back of Dean's shirt, revelling in the fact that you were able to do such a thing. This had the older Winchester pull you tighter against him as if not doing so meant you would disappear again. 

_"It came from over there! Hurry!"_

"Dean, they're coming," Sam warned with urgency as he looked beyond his brother to the quick advance of beams from flashlights. There was a jump in his step, a need to get moving, and Dean was on the same page. 

"Come on, we gotta go," he urged you lightly, pulling back to look you over a final time before ushering you behind a retreating Sam. You followed the taller man quickly, finding solace in the familiarity of having both Sam and Dean with you once more. 

The way out of the museum was clear of any trouble, save from your occassional trip-up from running in a multi-layered dress, and before the guards were even able to figure out what exactly had happened, you were already out of sight and leaning against the Impala to catch your breath. There was a sort of giddy feeling building in your chest at the familiar rush of being on the run, of being _free,_ and even in your emotional state, you found it exhilarating. 

Within moments, that feeling of immense joy bubbled forth, and you were shaking with the laughter that overcame you. 

"Hey, you okay?" Dean questioned as you took in deep breaths to combat your giggles, unaware that you had hunched over with the force of them. You looked up at Dean with a grand smile, finding that he was looking at you with worry. 

_"I'm fine, I'm just happy,"_ is what you meant to say, except... 

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Dean questioned again, Sam now looking over you as if trying to find something wrong. 

_"I'm fine, I promise,"_ you tried again, confused by your words. It wasn't necessarily the words that you were confused about, but the lack thereof that came from your throat even as you moved your lips. You looked up at the brothers, your gaze moving quickly between them before landing on Dean. The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in, and panic was soon to follow. 

_"Dean, my voice...I can't...."_

"She can't speak," Sam said aloud as he caught on to what was happening, surprised and concerned at the revelation. "(Y/N)'s voice is gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An absolutely HUGE thank you to each and everyone of you for your lovely comments and kudos!
> 
> See ya around for the next chapter!


	3. Safe and Soundless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a hell of a time writing lately. It's not from lack of trying, or lack of ideas. Just...motivation and troubles articulating what I want to say.
> 
> With that, I hope this chapter isn't too bad and that you can enjoy it, all the same.

The ride was quiet and bordering on uncomfortable with the build of tension in such a confined space. 

Had it been a normal situation, you would have taken it upon yourself to perk up the boys with witty and humorous conversation, starting with Sam and letting Dean decide when he was ready to give in and join you both. It was one of your few talents, being able to lighten the mood after some particularly rough hunts, and you knew the brothers where more than grateful for your efforts. 

This, however, was not a normal situation, and even with your desperate want to make the boys at least crack a smile of some sort, you couldn't. 

For all you knew, this whole thing could have been your fault, and you didn't even know it. You couldn't exactly remember what had happened or why things had transpired the way they did, even before the museum. It was obvious, however, that the outcome was not being taken lightly, especially by Dean. 

With that thought in mind, you leaned forward from the back seat and reached out a hand to shake Sam's shoulder. The light motion had the taller Winchester nearly jumping out of his seat, having been lost in thought. He turned to look you over as if expecting the worst. When he realized that all was well, he gave a small, relieved smile. 

"Hey, you need something?" 

You gave your own smile, just as small though more sad than relieved, and a shake of your head at his question, assuring that all was well. You then sent a long, concerned glance in Dean's direction before looking back to Sam in the same fashion. Even with your current lack of verbal skills, he seemed to understand what you were getting at. 

"Don't worry, we're just...stumped at the moment. Things obviously didn't work out the way they should have back there. We're trying to figure it all out, where exactly things went wrong." 

You gave a sigh at the news, already knowing the reason they were so quiet before it was confirmed. Of course they would assume it was something they did wrong. And if you knew Dean as well as you were sure you did, he was blaming himself big time for the disappearance of your voice, for breaking the glass without thinking of any consequences that could have occurred thereafter. 

How could he have known? How could any of you have known? 

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Dean spoke up suddenly, giving you the briefest of glances through the rearview mirror before his eyes were back on the road. 

"Yeah, get some rest," Sam agreed, "we've still got a ways to go." 

You were hesitant to leave the brothers in such a dismal silence, alone in their thoughts without reprieve. It was never a good thing, especially for the Winchesters. 

Sam, ever the perceptive man, was all too aware of your way of thinking. 

"We'll be fine, (Y/N). We've handled much worse. It won't do any good for you to worry about us worrying about you." 

That had you cracking an amused smile, one Sam was easily able to mirror. 

You gave a small nod and a gentle squeeze to his shoulder as affirmation that you would do as he and Dean asked. You then turned to Dean, his eyes still steadily glued to the road as he drove on, and leaned forward to plant a comforting kiss to his shoulder. It was a gesture you did often when you were alone, an act of comfort and love that often had the elder brother smiling at you affectionately. This time, there was no smile to be found, though Dean did seem to visibly relax in his seat. 

"We'll let you know when we get there," Dean assured almost quietly with another quick look at you through the rearview mirror, his gaze catching the smile and quick nod you gave in turn. 

It wasn't much, your actions to soothe their frayed nerves, but your efforts were enough to ease the tension from the air. It was with that knowledge that you were able to make yourself comfortable and slip into a dreamless sleep, Dean's leather coat shielding you from any cool drafts that found their way into the car. 

 

It was still dark when the Impala pulled into a nearly empty lot on the farthest end of of a motel. 

You were between the realms of sleep and wakefulness, aware of your surroundings but not quite able to react to them. You could feel the car roll to a stop, could hear and feel the steady thrum of the engine for a few seconds longer before it, too, came to a stop. For another minute after, all was still, and you nearly fell back into a restful sleep. 

A light touch to your hair had you turning in that direction, eyes opening and adjusting. With the iridescent glow of the motel lights reaching outward, you were just able to see Dean's gentle smile and tired gaze. 

"We're stopping for the night. Sam went to get a room; he thinks it'll be good to get some rest before we meet up with Bobby." 

You nodded as you made to sit up, stretching as best you could in such a confined space. Dean helped you out of the car soon after, hands coming up to steady you as you tripped over the fabrics of your dress. That was definitely getting annoying.... 

_"Did you guys happen to bring any of my clothes, or am I gonna have to wear this stupid thing until we get to Bobby's place?"_

You gave a huff as Dean stared at your mouth in an attempt to catch what you were saying. When he gave no indication of understanding your question, you plucked at the material of your 16th Century gown before giving a tug to his shirt, pointing a few times between you to further hint at what you were getting at. 

"Oh! Clothes, right. Well, I think I got something of yours in the back." 

He moved to open the trunk, popping the lid and displaying the array of weaponry that was stashed within. In the far corner sat three duffle bags, one of which you instantly recognized as your own, albeit a bit on the dusty side. Dean pulled all three out and closed the trunk just as Sam was making his way back over to the car. 

"We're good for the night. Check-out's normally at twelve, but I convinced them to give us until three, just in case." 

"Awesome! You rock, Sammy," Dean praised with a tired smile, tossing one of the bags to Sam who then led the way into the room. 

The layout was fairly simple, as most motel rooms were. There was a little nook that had a desk-like table and two chairs to the far left, and just to the right was the door to the bathroom. The beds, both queen-sized, were also on the left, though closer to the entrance, and it looked incredibly inviting. 

Despite your need to change, you couldn't help but make a bee-line to the first bed and all but collapsed onto the comforter. It was much softer than you expected it to be, coming from a motel. 

"I think I'll head for the shower first, if that's cool," Sam said aloud, watching as you gave a lazy, contented nod in acknowledgement, snuggling just a bit further into the mattress and letting out a relaxed sigh. God, it felt like it had been ages since you'd had the chance to lay on a bed. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, just content with laying out as you were, unaware until Dean's gentle shake to your shoulder that you had actually fallen asleep in your relaxed state. He had even jumped in the shower beforehand, his hair still somewhat damp and his appearance overall a bit more refreshed, meaning you had been out for a good half-hour, at least. 

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he said quietly as you gave a sleepy smile, "the shower's still nice'n hot. Figured you might want to get in, at least get out of that monstrosity of a dress like you wanted." 

You could feel your throat flex and contort into a small bout of laughter at his words, though no sound came through. You nodded all the same, and with a quick rummage through your bag still sitting beside you on the bed where Dean had placed it, you were off to the bathroom. 

Getting out of the dress was a bit of a struggle, but once it was off, breathing became much easier than you thought was capable. You hadn't even realized the damn thing was so tight! The shower's hot water was even more of a relief, as were your t-shirt and sleep pants once you had dried off. For the first time in a while, you felt human, and it was a feeling you didn't even know could be lost in the way you had lost it. 

When you finally made your way out, Sam had already passed out in the furthest bed from the door, his arm splayed out beside him a sure sign of a good sleep. Dean, however, was still awake, his arms tucked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. 

You made your way over to the bed, just catching his attention before slipping underneath the sheets beside him. He smiled then, and for a moment, you just studied him. 

It was a wonder he was even awake at this point, as the bags under his eyes suggested he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in possibly days, maybe even weeks. The worry lines just above his brow seemed more predominant, more deeply etched than the last time you'd seen him, and it made you wonder just how long he'd had to look for you, to worry and fret over the danger your life could have been in. 

So lost in your thoughts you were, you hadn't even realized Dean's light smile had turned into a frown. 

"What's wrong?" 

As a way of answering, you placed the palm of your hand against his slightly stubbled cheek, your thumb tracing carefully just under his eye. You couldn't voice your concerns, but Dean was at least able to pick up on them. 

He reached up to take hold of your hand, placing a firm kiss to your palm as a way to ease your worries, and another against your wrist. When his eyes locked with yours, you knew what was coming next, and you welcomed the gentle caress of his lips against yours. 

For several long minutes, he kissed you, his hands finding their way into your still damp hair as you clung to his arms. It was both an overwhelming and reassuring sensation, grounding you in a way that there was no doubt this was real. You were here, Dean was here, and that was that. 

This, you realized as he finally pulled away and turned out the lamp, pulled you close to him and wrapped his arms around you as you both settled to sleep, felt like home. 

Tomorrow, there would be many questions and few answers; there would be tons of confusion and anger, maybe even fear of what little any of you knew about what was going on and why. For now, however, you were safe in Dean's arms, and you thanked God he had not given up on finding you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, SO much for all the kudos and absolutely wonderful comments. I'm thrilled this fic has gotten such good feedback!
> 
> As always, see ya around in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Drop me a comment or leave me a kudos - any feedback is most welcome and appreciated.
> 
> See ya around for the next chapter!


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